


The Price of Success

by FreddieFoxBaxter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Bulimia, Eating Disorder, Gen, Quidditch, Seeker, Self Loathing, body image issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:40:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24008251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreddieFoxBaxter/pseuds/FreddieFoxBaxter
Summary: At 23, Viktor Krum is on the top of the world, but everything comes with a price.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 17
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo





	The Price of Success

**Author's Note:**

> I am not promoting nor condoning this kind of behaviours in any way. Please take care of yourselves and be safe.

Viktor rests his head on his arm, weighing on the toilet. The little lines between the floor tiles are scratching his knees, but he doesn’t move. His throat is on fire and it hurts to breathe. He sighs, trying to catch a breath, but his ears won’t stop ringing; the world swirls around him and, for a few minutes, he can’t get up from the floor.

He takes one, two, three deep breaths before he tries to lift his head once more; this time the world has stopped. He gathers his strength to stand up, but he moves just a bit too quickly and grabs the sink to stop himself from falling back on the ground.

He catches a glimpse of his image in the mirror; the glass is too foggy and blurry to make out the details and Viktor is grateful for that. He hasn’t been able to really look at himself for years now, despite his father efforts to push him to take better care of himself.

“Nobody wants to cheer for a slob” he repeats. His father has a lot to say about every single aspect of his life, ever since Viktor caught his first Snitch. He was seven at the time, during his first quidditch game. It was quite obvious he was a natural, and the coach had given him the biggest smile, but not his father. The man had looked at his son with a frown, an expression Viktor would soon learn to associate with himself. No matter what, a hint of disappointment seemed to always be present into his father eyes when he looked at him.

Viktor was also seven the first time his father made a comment about his weight. He doesn’t remember the details, but he is sure the whole family was there. That’s what hurt the most. His father words had come out of the blue in front of everybody, “Don’t you think you have had enough?”. Viktor remembers the guilt he felt looking down at his grandma’s cake. Yes, he had had enough, but he still wanted a second piece, just like all his cousins, but his father had taken the plate right out of his hands and sent him back to play. Viktor hasn’t had a piece of cake ever since.

His father, and later self-appointed agent, had looked over his child like a hawk. He decided everything. What Viktor would where, which sponsorships he would seek, where he was allowed to go and with whom he was allowed to hang out. Every protest was met with a “It’s for your own good” or a “You’ll thank me one day”, and soon Viktor had stopped voicing them at all.

Mr. Krum made his son’s career his life mission, no matter the cost. It was his idea Viktor would sign up for the Triwizard Tournament. The Seeker had only wanted to rest that year, he had just played in the World Cup after all, and he needed some time to recover from the grilling experience. The defeat suffered in the final game was still haunting him, and his father had done nothing but pointing out his displeasure for the results. Yet Mr. Krum thought it would be the perfect opportunity for his son to make people forget about the loss. “You have to win” he demanded.

And Viktor went. He was away from home for the first time in his life, away from his father shadow. He had fun. The tasks had been almost impossible, but Viktor felt free, almost as much as when he was on his Firebolt. Yet he lost the tournament. He suspects his father never forgave him for that one either.

Viktor turns his back to the mirror, quickly undressing before he gets into the shower. He closes his eyes and lets the warm water massage his shoulder; all his worries get washed away, dissolved in the fog, but he knows it’s not going to last. They are right there, waiting for him to get out of the shower.

He wishes he could get out to fly, but his father is waiting for him downstairs. He has his annual physical scheduled for 2 pm that afternoon, they can’t be late. Viktor dreads the examination, but he can’t get out of it, or he wouldn’t be allowed to play next season.

He washes away the soap and dries himself with abrupt strokes. He washes his teeth and then casts the brighting spell he learnt when he was twelve years old and started throwing up most of his meals. He can’t let them rot because of his habits, and he can’t change those habits out of the fear of gaining weight. He needs to be “lean and swift” if he wants to keep the title as World Best Seeker.

The clothes his father chose are already on his bead; Viktor groans. He can’t stand wearing fitting shirts, if it was for him he would always dress with his hoodies, but he guesses it’s a no-go. He doesn’t have the energy to fight with his dad, not today, so he grits his teeth and wears what’s on the duvet.

He finishes buttoning up the silky white shirt, uncomfortable against his skin. It’s too tight, too revealing. Viktor takes a deep breath, resisting the urge to dig into his wardrobe for a sweater. He wishes he could at least wear his uniform, that never bothered him. The thick robes wrap his body nicely, they hide everything. They are his armour when he is out on the field under the scrutiny of thousands of people.

The  _ Wasp _ . That’s how his fans are calling him these days, probably because of how aggressive his game is, Viktor isn’t sure, but his father was clear on that, always give the crowds what they want. “People want to see a good show, that’s what they pay for”, and Viktor’s job is to give it to them.

“You can’t just go catch the Snitch” his father used to yell. It took him a while to get what his father meant. Catching the Snitch was what he was good at, his personal record was three minutes and seventeen seconds; his father was there, but he didn’t seem pleased with it.

So Viktor learnt to do better. He realized people didn’t come to the games for the moment he caught the Snitch, they came for everything that happened before that. They cheered for the chases, they screamed at the last-second turns right before he would crush on the ground. Viktor learnt to put on a show that would keep the crowd entertained for at least an hour; it took a huge toll on him, but the cheers from the bleachers made it worth it.

On his Firebolt, Viktor was the man in charge. The referees could keep blowing their whistle as much as they wanted, Viktor was too busy chasing that adrenaline shock that came with every dangerous move.

They are a few minutes early when they arrive at the team training stadium, but his teammates are already there. They all greet him cheerfully, but it’s Gerard the first to ignore Mr. Krum frightful glare and approach them; he picks up Viktor with no effort and spins him around till they are both dizzy.

Gerard laughs, putting him back on the ground “You are too tiny, cupcake”. Viktor groans and rolls his eyes at the nickname, but that only seem to bemuse the other man even more.

Viktor smiles at his best friend. More than a few female fans seem convinced they are in a relationship and it’s behaviour like this that they use to justify their point, but Gerard is just an affectionate guy and Viktor had soon learnt to appreciate that part of him.

No way someone like Gerard could be interested in him. Next to each other they form an odd pair; Viktor barely reaches Gerard’s chin with the top of his head and his hips are just a couple of inches wider than Gerry’s thigh. At 6’7 of height he is not called the  _ Berlin Wall _ just because of his skills as a Keeper, as remarkable as they might be.

Not to mention Gerry is built like one of those Greek statues, it’s no secret he is the team player with the bigger fan base among women, despite the fact he had no interest in them whatsoever.

“Are you ok, Vic?”

He nods, ignoring the apprehension in his friend’s eyes. Too concerned about the physical, he doesn’t stop to reassure Gerry more.

Viktor sits in the locker room waiting for his turn to join the Magi-doctor in the coach office. Sitting apart from his teammates, he doesn’t take part in their chatter, he is not in the mood for it and he fears they would ask too many questions if he were to open his mouth to voice his discomfort; so he waits alone and silent, and, luckily enough, the rest of the team respects his needs.

Viktor suspects Gerard is behind it, he might not know the details but he must have figured out that something is bothering Viktor and he needs space.

Viktor waits until the other players have taken their physical, as he always does. Ears ringing and his chest heavier and heavier as the other players leave the coach office one after the other.

His only comfort it that his father doesn't get access to the locker room; he can almost hear his voice scolding him for his bad posture and for sitting on the floor as Viktor hugs his knees a little tighter.

When his turn finally cames, his heart jumps up in his throat. He follows the Magi-doctor inside the office; he catches a glimpse of the doctor’s look as the man sighs; he doesn’t make any comment though, much to Viktor’s appreciation.

The first part of the physical goes great. His eyesight is perfect and the doctor compliments him for his excepcional eye-hand coordination; Viktor whomps up a smile, glossing over the hours upon hours of training his father subjected him to to achieve that level of coordination.

He stands stiffly in the middle of the room as the doctor casts all the spell he needs to check his conditions; Viktor does his best to ignore the wary expression on the man’s face.

The doctor does his best to get him to relax as the check up progresses, but Viktor can’t help it. He tenses up at every step, knowing that the moment he dreads the most is getting closer, paired with the scolding he is sure it’s going to follow.

“Your blood pressure is a bit low, it might be dangerous while on the Broomstick” the men comments.

Viktor shrugs “It never gave me problems before”.

The Magi-doctor mumbles to himself casting a series of Spells to check a sample of the blood he just took from Viktor’s arm.

“I’m not happy with your iron levels either”.

At the mindless comment, Viktor clenches his jaw so tensely he fears his teeth might shatter.

“Viktor, have you been following the diet I gave you last time?” the Magi-doctor ask in a soft voice.

“Mostly yes” he spits through his teeth in reply; the doctor presses his lips together in a strict line. The Seeker lowers his gaze, his cheeks flashing bright red and the stone resting on his chest heavier than ever.

“Well, then. Do you mind stepping on the scale, please?”

Yes, Viktor minds very much. He can’t say that, not out loud, but an alarm is going on in his head. He needs to leave, now. His feet are made of concrete as he steps closer to the dreaded scale.

Viktor holds his breath, gaze stuck on the ceiling, waiting for the doctor’s verdict. He hears him sigh, but the man makes no comment.

A couple more spells tingle his skin before the Magi-doctor finally lets him get down from the scale.

“Viktor,” he says as soon as they are seated at the coach desk, “you have lost more weight. This is what concerns me the most, you are now dangerously underweight for a man of your age”.

Viktor avoids looking at his face; he focuses his gaze on his hands and keeps his mouth shut. He just need to get through this.

“I want to see you again in a month, right before next season begins. If you follow my diet plan, you’ll have gained at least ten pounds by then. If you fail to do that, I’ll have you benched for health reasons”.

At those words, Viktor explodes “That’d ruin my career!”

Nobody has ever threatened him before, although he seriously doubts the coach would bench him, he is too valuable on the field.

“I doubt that,” the doctor objects, “but consider this, it might end up saving your life”.

Viktor nods, slowly, the seriousness in the man’s voice allows no other reaction, but on the inside he is fuming. The goal ahead is unattainable. Ten pounds? That’s impossible, he never gained that much weight all together; he get nauseous just thinking about it. He would have to roll on the field, forget about flying.

He gets up and shakes his hand. He’ll have to change his mind next time they meet, the Magidoctor just doesn’t get what’s at stake. Viktor knows best.


End file.
